


Sick Day

by omorashiside



Category: No Fandom, Original Work
Genre: Bedwetting, Fever, Gen, Male Friendship, Omorashi, Other, Sickfic, Vomiting, Wetting, male wetting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-03
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2019-05-17 11:52:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14831798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/omorashiside/pseuds/omorashiside
Summary: Ezra is sick and it’s up to Joe to take care of him. Except there’s a problem - Ezra can’t get up without getting dizzy and Joe doesn’t think to take him to the bathroom.





	Sick Day

Joe, as usual, woke first, his groggy brain taking a minute to realise that he wasn’t in his own bedroom and why. His arm lay under Ezra’s head, completely numb, and as he moved it slowly as not to wake him, he noticed that his forehead was warm. Strangely so.

He let his fingers linger for a second or two, his touch light, but chalked it up to the circumstances; they slept next to each other and under the covers (this was unfamiliar territory, he didn’t have a clue what sleeping in the same bed as someone was like). His stomach growled and he checked the clock, surprised to see that it was nearly eleven, far later than he normally woke up, and figured that he’d prepare breakfast before waking Ezra.

As he cooked (bacon sandwiches, nothing special) he wondered what triggered Ezra’s nightmares again. Rather, what made them so intense? Sure, it wasn’t often for the boy to sleep through the night, but he hadn’t had full-blown screaming and panic attacks since the beginning. Perhaps he should ask as they ate.

With a plate of sandwiches in hand, Joe returned to his bedroom to wake Ezra but paused in the doorway, hearing the whines and even groans coming from him in his sleep. He set the plate down and pressed a hand against the man’s forehead, frowning.

“Ezra?” he said softly, shaking him awake.

Ezra opened his eyes slowly. “Morning.”

“Are you okay? You don’t feel hot or anything?”

“I… a little bit,” he said. “It’s probably just from the duvet all night, I’ll be fine in a minute.”

Joe shrugged. “As long as you say so. I got breakfast.”

“Thanks,” Ezra said. He swallowed what seemed a lot of spit, beginning to feel a little cold, but ignored it and reached for one of the sandwiches. Not a minute after swallowing the first bite, his stomach lurched and his mouth filled with spit again. “I don’t… I think… I’m gonna be sick.”

He stood up and stumbled in the direction of the bathroom, disorientated by the sudden movement, barely getting to the toilet before the food came back up. Joe rubbed his back as he sunk to his knees, continuing to fetch and heave.

“Shit, you’re sick. Let’s get you back in bed, hey? I’ll get you some Tylenol and you can sleep for a while,” Joe explained, his voice as soothing as ever. “That sound good?”

Ezra just nodded, allowing Joe to take his arm and lead him back to the bed. The dizziness didn’t help with the nausea bubbling in his gut, making his stomach hurt. “I’ll be right back. Make yourself comfy.”

Joe returned with a basin, towels, a glass of water and Tylenol all balanced in his arms. He dropped the basin by the foot of the bed and placed the towels under Ezra, in case he was sick again. “If you need to throw up, you don’t have to get up, I don’t want you to hurt yourself. Call for me after so I can empty it. Tylenol is two every four hours, I’ll wake you up for your next dose.”

“Thanks,” he murmured, sinking back into bed. He took two of the pills and lay back down. “I’ll be ok.”

“Yeah, it’s probably just a bug, it might suck for a day or two.” Joe reached for the thermometer. “Keep it under your tongue for a minute.”

Ezra complied, and the older man checked it after a little while. “102.7. I’ve got to keep an eye on that but you should be fine. I’ll leave you alone to get some sleep, remember to call me if you need anything.”

“I will.”

* * *

Ezra woke up, barely conscious of the trickle of urine between his legs, and tensed his aching muscles once he realised he was wetting the bed. His bladder protested as he stemmed the flow, every sluggish movement jolting it. It throbbed as he pushed himself up into a sitting position and surveyed the damage: he sat in a small puddle, his inner thighs wet, but it wasn’t bad.

He nearly gasped as an intense wave of desperation hit him and, checking that he was alone, he jammed a hand between his legs. Just sitting up made the world lurch around him, the nausea returning quickly, but he was determined not to wet himself the second time today.

Moving slowly, not letting go of his crotch, he swung his legs out of bed, spurting into his damp pyjamas as he did so. One of his feet landed inside the basin, and he briefly entertained the notion of peeing there. No, it was for sick. The bathroom was just across the room. He swore he could feel the liquid sloshing around inside him, inside the swollen bump that was his bladder. As he was about to try and stand up he remembered Joe’s words ( _call me if you need anything_ ) but didn’t want to inconvenience him over something so mild as needing to pee.

Standing up made him double over, both his hands at his crotch, a dribble running down his leg for a good three seconds. The world lurched around him and he steadied himself against the bedside table. Ezra stepped forwards tentatively, his hand buried in the wet fabric, focusing on the bathroom door. Each step was torturous.

Spots danced in his vision and his ears rang; the dizziness returned just as he misstepped, sending him falling to the ground. Ezra landed with a heavy thump, trying to hold back vomit, thankfully alright aside from his bladder. His grip tightened as a trickle soaked into the carpet beneath him, cutting it off much harder this time. His ankle hurt from the awkward way he’d landed, although he suspected it was only twisted rather than sprained.

“Ez?” Joe’s voice made him panic and he moved his hands from his crotch to his stomach, trying to act as if that was the discomfort. Considering the urge to be sick, it wasn’t technically a lie.

Thanks to the lack of light - Joe, in his hurry, didn’t bother turning on the main light, just the one on the bedside table - the wetness on his blue pyjamas wasn’t visible. “Ez, what happened?”

He swallowed. “I’m gonna…” His explanation was cut off by bile rising in his throat and he gagged. He lurched forwards and vomited into the basin; it took everything he had not let his bladder give out too.

“Easy, kid, easy,” Joe said, crouching down beside him and rubbing his back. “You finished?”

Ezra nodded once he stopped retching and sat back, hoping that Joe would leave so he could hold himself again. The man helped him into bed again, the movement excruciating for his full bladder, and a whimper escaped his lips. Fortunately, he could play it off as his ankle hurting.

“I think I’ve got some pepto-bismol somewhere, that might help. You try and go to sleep - I’m just gonna empty this,” Joe explained, gesturing to the basin. “Oh, and if your ankle still hurts in a bit we’ll ice it.”

Lying down made him acutely aware of how much he needed to pee, even with his hands grabbing himself once Joe left the room, and he squirmed in bed. He was far past desperate yet he didn’t dare to try and pee again. Perhaps if he wasn’t sick he might have registered that the _pain_ wasn’t good for him, but regardless he continued to hold, not wanting to think of what he was meant to do.

Ezra leaked into his pyjamas despite his squirming and grabbing, feeling the puddle beneath him beginning to grow larger. He bit his lip and tried to concentrate on anything other than peeing. It hurt and his bladder bulged outwards at the waistband of his pyjama pants. Every time urine leaked out it was harder and harder to stop, the gaps between dribbles becoming smaller and smaller. He definitely wasn’t far off having an accident.

He couldn’t help the words coming from his mouth as Joe returned. “I’m sorry, I’m gonna wet myself, I’m so sorry!”

“What?”

“I wet the bed a bit when I woke up and I really need to pee and it hurts and I can’t hold it, sorry, I didn’t mean to,” Ezra confessed. “I just can’t wait.”

Joe dropped the basin and came closer, looking at Ezra in the dim light. Upon closer inspection he could see streaks of wetness down his dark pyjamas, see the little puddle on the sheets. “You wet the bed and it still hurts?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you think you can make it to the bathroom?”

Ezra’s pained expression said it all. Tears glistened in his eyes, both from pain and the humiliation of admitting it. Joe thought for a moment. The bed was wet - enough to require the sheets be washed - and so were Ezra’s pyjamas; if they both had to be cleaned anyway, did it matter what happened as long as it took his pain away?

“Ez,” he began carefully, “if we can’t get you to the bathroom or if it makes you sick, it’s okay just for now if you go right here.”

“You mean on purpose?” he asked, almost fervently.

“Yeah.”

“I-I can’t!”

“It’s alright. You already had a little accident - that’s okay, you’re sick and you didn’t mean to - and you said it’s hurting, which can be dangerous if you hold it too long. So it’s okay to go now.”

Ezra closed his eyes and his hands grabbed fistfuls of his pants. He tried to relax, to just let himself pee, but now that he had permission it was impossible. “I’m trying, I am, I can’t go.”

Joe watched him squirm around in pain. “I can… help. If you want me to.”

“Please,” he begged. Considering that Ezra didn’t often accept anything without denying that he needed it (they were working on that one), he must’ve been totally desperate. “I n-need it.”

Joe laid a hand on his stomach, barely above his bladder, and leant against the bed. “If you want me to stop just tell me.”

Ezra nodded and let go of his pants, one of his hands finding Joe’s and tentatively taking it. The older man rubbed slow circles on his stomach, gradually moving down to his bladder. He relaxed as much as he could, closing his eyes and pretending that he was in the bathroom, almost wincing at the touch on his bladder. Each push made it harder to hold yet he forced himself to keep his legs apart. The urine sloshed around inside his bladder, building his desperation until one firm push tipped him over the edge.

Hot urine soaked his pyjamas as he finally let go, a loud moan of relief escaping his lips, flooding the bed around him. Ezra panted as his bladder released its contents, his legs growing warm and wet, and nearly arching his back once the pressure dropped and he began to feel the true relief. He didn’t say a word as he lay there and soaked himself, Joe’s thumb absentmindedly running over his hand. The feeling was incredible.

By the time he opened his eyes again, his pyjamas were nearer to black than navy and his urine pooled underneath him as the sheets struggled to absorb it all.

“That feel better?” Joe asked, glad, and admittedly surprised, that the boy had given in before he seriously hurt himself.

“Y-Yeah,” Ezra murmured. “Didn’t mean t-to get everything wet though. Sorry.”

“Hey, don’t worry ‘bout it. I let you do it, I’d have to wash everything anyway,” Joe shrugged. “I’ll go get some dry things and towels, so we can get you cleaned up and back in bed.”

The younger nodded, the stress and desperation melting away and letting exhaustion take over. He’d quite happily fall asleep as he was if Joe didn’t want to clean him up.

Joe was on his way out when he remembered.

 

_The empty basin by his feet._

 

**Author's Note:**

> Based on this prompt:
> 
>  
> 
> _Person A is sick, Person B is not. They share a bed and B wakes up to A moaning and burning up in their sleep. They wake up A and take them to the bathroom, in case they need to throw up. A nearly falls over on the way, but B takes them back to bed._
> 
>  
> 
> _They bring A a basin and lay towels down, etc. but don’t stop to think about A still needing to pee. After taking A’s temperature, they turn off the lights and leave them for an hour or two._
> 
>  
> 
> _When B comes to check on A, not only have they been sick and wet the bed, but they are desperate to pee. They’re in the process of trying to get across the room unaided, and by the looks of it very dizzy. B guides them back to bed and gets them to lay down before they can hurt themselves._
> 
>  
> 
> _A is confused, but B tells them that, since their bed is wet, they might as well go now. Eventually, and with a bit of a belly rub, A agrees and holds B’s hand as they wet._


End file.
